Meaning In Your Smile
by The Chosen Storyteller
Summary: They were both victims. Neither Vera nor Klavier could understand what they'd done to deserve the drama in their lives. But while Vera hid away from the world, Klavier carried on like he wasn't hurting. Now with Kristoph's crimes catching up to him, they can properly heal. And maybe Klavier and Vera can give each other more reasons to keep smiling. (DISCONTINUED.)
1. Chapter 1

Well, it's been some time since I've written for Ace Attorney hasn't it? The first thing I ever wrote was for this series, and I personally believe that out of all my cringe-inducing work (some things never change) the Ace Attorney stuff will make you...develop an alcohol addiction. But at the end of the day man, I know my earlier works suck but I have a soft spot for them. Just like how I can't HATE Ace Attorney in spite of the fact Spirit of Justice is a depressing experience and it **killed** the series for me.

To rub in how possibly broken I've become: here's a rare pairing that I feel doesn't get enough love. Call me mad all you want, but I see potential. You can't tell me both these characters don't deserve someone to care about them, something wholesome.

Also, it's been a very long time since I've played through Apollo Justice. So you'll have to forgive me if my knowledge of the final case is fuzzy, or wrong. But you know what? If it is wrong, we can still salvage it! You can totally call it alternate universe and get away with it~

**DISCLAIMER TIME – "Capcom owns Ace Attorney, the money I wasted downloading Spirit Of Justice and the mental state that is depression. Way to blow, guys."**

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_**( An Ace Attorney fanfiction typed entirely by The Chosen Storyteller )**_

_**Meaning In Your Smile**_

_**Chapter 1**_

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Vera was reintroduced to the prosecutor who helped expose the crimes of the terrible man who'd gone out of his way to ruin her life promptly after the trial, but only by accident. When the trial was over, she was still shaken by memories and hearing the truth directly from the mouth of that ma- Was he even a man? Or had he been under some kind of demonic possession? Because the things he'd done… She didn't want to believe there were more like him, no, she'd certainly seen the reverse with that defense attorney and his assistant. Apollo Justice and Trucy Wright.

While Vera was recovering in the hospital, she had visits from Apollo and Trucy every other day. One might think it was a little much, but the only person who ever comforted her when she was ill was her father. This concept of friendship was so new, but as she listened to stories of some of the stranger characters they worked with and playfully bicker at every new embellishment she wasn't scared or upset. It was only when visiting hours were over did Vera realize she hated to be alone.

It was difficult to be able to cry when doctors or nurses were coming in to check on her, sometimes their timing was bad and interpreted her tears for those of pain. Although the staff were as patient and nice to her as they could be, she found it hard to explain she was actually fine and had to resort to using her sketchpad for communication.

One day, Vera was woken from a dreamless sleep after exhausting herself crying. The nurse who had been kindly wiping the streaks off her cheeks and the puffy skin under her eyes with a cool moist cloth, informed her she had a new visitor… A handsome one, she added with a disturbing glint in her eyes. Somehow, Vera doubted she was referring to Apollo. Trucy's father, maybe, but even that was a stretch.

Vera braced herself for having to talk to a stranger, though it took several moments. When she thought she was ready, she scribbled a check mark on a fresh page and the nurse played along and went out to fetch the visitor.

The door opened to reveal Prosecutor Gavin, not… Not the other Gavin. It still scared her how similar they looked, how they could easily pass for twins despite the age difference. This one smiled a lot more convincingly, even if his eyes were hazy with sadness his lips wouldn't admit what he was really feeling.

No amount of bracing for this prepared Vera. She reached for the blanket and yanked it up to her chin, hating her childish thoughts of hiding from her fears but it was completely out of her control. All she could hope for was that she didn't shiver or whimper, no, she wasn't scared of him. Just the connection to someone else. But he might not have gotten that message, considering he remained in front of the door looking unsure of what to do with himself.

Finally, Prosecutor Gavin set his eyes on hers. He made a gesture to the chair by the window, a silent request if he could take it.

Vera knew he was a busy person and didn't want to waste time writing her thoughts, so she just nodded. He definitely understood that – he'd smiled and crossed the room to close some distance.

Prosecutor Gavin sat down, trying to look casual but his eyes just weren't as bright as they'd been. "I hope your recovery isn't too painful. I know I should have visited sooner, and Trucy kept inviting me to come along but I..." He looked from her to the dark television screen, watching her reflection instead. "Ah, I wanted to bring some flowers but I didn't know what kind you like. Or if you're allergic. Maybe you don't even like them- Ugh..."

Vera watched, slowly lowering the blanket back to her upper stomach as she did so. It was difficult to be scared when he looked like he was struggling himself, probably a rare occasion considering she'd heard he was in his element on stage having to address crowds. If words weren't coming to him, he must have been more affected by this situation than he showed others.

Her drawing hand was eager to grab the sketchbook and reply, but instead Vera sat up and looked right him. As much as she could without feeling awkward, at least. "I think white roses are pretty." When he looked surprised, Vera self-consciously tapped her nails in an attempt to not bite them. "But you'd look odd giving them to someone...wouldn't you?"

"If you asked most of the people I work with, they'd tell you I couldn't be any more odd." Prosecutor Gavin said, definitely more lively than before as his shoulders obviously relaxed. Had he really been tense before? "White roses, then. Herr Forehead says you might be let out of here soon, and when that happens you're going to find a bouquet of white roses mysteriously placed on your doorstep."

Vera's heart raced a little more when they locked eyes. She may have sent a negative message when she snapped her head away to the other side of the room, but she felt like she might be the one to start smiling for seemingly no reason and… She'd never seen her own smile but she imagined it was nothing compared to his. She spent so long frowning, her facial muscles were probably stretched out.

Desperate to not let the room be swallowed in awkwardness, Vera thought of another topic. "Do you like drawing?" She felt herself blush at the question, how she'd blurted it out. Well, not that her voice could go a higher pitch anyhow, but still.

"Drawing? Ah...unfortunately, I wasn't gifted that talent. I used to draw when I was a kid, but every time I showed it off I had to explain it. But of course, every classmate in school seemed to be able to make creations worthy of hanging in museums." Prosecutor Gavin almost sounded a bit embarrassed as well, but Vera had a difficult time believing it.

Vera did cave and grab her sketchbook, but not for its usual purpose. She was able to actually speak to him more than she originally thought possible, but still sensed sadness he wasn't letting the world know about. He hadn't stopped by to get to know her better. That wouldn't...make sense.

The sketchbook was placed at the foot of the bed, along with a pen. Prosecutor Gavin looked back and forth between her and that sketchbook, but he seemed to understand the connection.

"You don't have to follow the rules or be precise when drawing how you...feel." Vera explained, putting too much attention on those eyes. She couldn't help trying to hide behind her hair, pull some of it toward her face and hide where she was looking. For all the emotion, they were brilliant.

Prosecutor Gavin took the sketchbook and balanced it on one knee. He didn't protest about drawing, though the look on his face screamed **I'm so unprepared for this – please save me**. He muttered to himself, maybe even to Vera as well judging by the way he kept insisting his fingers were more at ease against guitar strings and if he made something unfit to be viewed by humanity it wasn't intentional.

Did he know he could have declined her request? Vera honestly didn't know, but she didn't point that out since even he had to stop and take a breath before proceeding with a new stroke of the pen. He really looked like he was trying his best, though the display of emotions leaving his eyes and appearing on his face were something else.

In those moments, it was easier to remember the difference between the brothers. Vera didn't think the man who'd destroyed lives for flimsy reasons would be able to wear anything on his face but a dishonest smile and insane rage. The man who did everything in his power, despite society's expectations for a prosecutor, to help people was capable of so much more but he was so determined to not fail at a simple task he probably didn't know it.

Vera watched his whole attempt at art, at first only interested in seeing how he could draw anything with the book poorly balanced on his kneecap alone. Then weird thoughts flashed through her mind, dwelling on how cute he looked focusing on this not so dramatic task. She wasn't sure if it was okay to think of a man that way; she'd seen Apollo bristle like an angry cat and scold Trucy when she less seriously called him cute after he'd done his spike-flattening quirk-thing.

There was no logical explanation for how the sunlight streaming through the window seemed to intentionally surround Prosecutor Gavin and give him something of an angelic glow… It made Vera wonder if she should request an appointment with an eye doctor after looking at the scene. She was staring at him, she knew it must have looked weird but she barely made the effort to glance elsewhere when he peeked at her.

After what felt like hours, Prosecutor Gavin made a final stroke on the page finishing with one of his rock star persona grins and putting too much flair in it. He was just showing off at that point...rightfully so. Vera couldn't stop her mind from going full speed into territory of finding him endearing. Just looking at him was more of an event than it needed to be.

Prosecutor Gavin rose from the chair and approached the bed. He could have stood at her bedside; she silently hoped he would come a little closer so she could study his eyes again and look past the silence for some kind of magic. There was so much going on with him, and she didn't know where to start. Instead, he maintained some distance and put the sketchbook in her awaiting hands.

Despite the time it took, there was such a small space taken up in the center. Vera didn't know much about the outside world, but she gathered some of those symbols were music notes. They were the only things represented as they should, because after that there was a weird...table? No, it only had one seat. Or at least that square was intended to be a chair, right? Some kind of place to rest. The table-like structure had multiple segments on its surface, some filled in and others not. And oh, the crookedness of the drawing. But that had more to do with the one knee balancing act, she believed.

When Vera looked up, she was surprised to see Prosecutor Gavin had moved to the window accidentally pulling in all the sunlight from California again, rubbing his neck and doing anything within reason to not give away his embarrassment – Never mind.

"My mind defaulted to music again." He explained, alternating between peeking at her and looking out the window. "I didn't start out with guitars on my musical awakening all those years ago; my parents let me take piano lessons, and they never stop reminding me that was the biggest regret of both their lives. Although they never complained about my guitar lessons… They must have resigned themselves to my interest at that point."

"This is a piano?" Was Vera's first thought fallen onto her tongue. She cringed, feeling stupid but… Yes, she had seen a piano in real life.

Prosecutor Gavin didn't look offended or any more embarrassed by her question. Actually, he laughed. Vera wasn't certain if he was laughing with himself or out of her saying something funny, but she did know that sound was musical in its own way. There had been times Trucy fawned over this man, and Vera felt like she was missing something when that happened. But that laugh? That laugh could cure sadness; all she saw was his sparkling blue eyes when he looked at her again, nothing more.

"Perhaps it's not too late to pick up a new hobby. My band is going to be just another memory now, but maybe I could spend my free time offering sketches of people in the park." Prosecutor Gavin was mostly rambling to himself at that point, sounding a little too interested in that lifestyle. Vera must have been visibly struggling to keep up, because he smiled apologetically eventually.

When Prosecutor Gavin idly walked away from the window closer to her bed, Vera held out the sketchpad again. She just hoped her expression was able to convey the encouragement she wanted, um, her voluntary smiles still had some hiccups.

To her delight, Prosecutor Gavin accepted the sketchbook. This time, he allowed her to see him work up close by dragging the ridiculously loud chair closer to her bed. Not close enough for their shoulders to touch or anything scandalous of the sort, but it was enough to be dizzying. Vera did her best to ignore her racing heart and tone down some of the stolen looks at him before he noticed.

For the remainder of the visit, Prosecutor Gavin did most of the talking. Maybe he was kind of overdoing it, but since Vera couldn't maintain a full conversation perhaps that was enough. They took turns drawing, but he provided a brief story behind his. Usually after self-consciously explaining what it was supposed to be in the first place.

His best drawing of a guitar, shocker, led into how he'd managed to form his band and the better days of that time period involving traveling and just hanging out with his friends feeling invincible. And drunk. He'd never enjoyed drinking in public, he rushed to explain after mindlessly drawing fancy wine glasses.

The simplified yet misshapen school building led into his first kiss, fistfight he ultimately lost and driving without a license and getting pulled over after narrowly avoiding hitting a police officer in the midst of walking across the fast food place's parking lot. Not on the same day, mind you.

Vera wanted to be able to explain her drawings the way he did, but her life couldn't compare to his. It sounded like he actually lived, while she was unaware there was anything interesting beyond the walls.

And when Vera grabbed his sleeve and asked if he would like to draw with her again in the studio once she was released form the hospital, Prosecutor Gavin smiled in spite of the surprise flickering in his eyes. She didn't know if he was aware he was sending that message, but regardless he said yes. And that was all Vera needed to believe him.

Vera leaned over – trying not to remind herself how red her face was being so close to just his shoulder – and participated in drawing too. She decided she would sketch a notable birthday present she received from her father one year. Something unrelated to art, but at least she had a story to tell him this time. But she was so accustomed to adding in so many details, she'd barely finished the face of the porcelain doll before a faint buzzing noise filled the room.

Prosecutor Gavin apologized and withdrew his phone to check the text he'd received, but he couldn't downplay the fact his life was still busy and even if he didn't have live shows to practice for he still had crime scenes to be at every now and then. Vera didn't say anything, but she understood. She just took her sketchbook and placed it back where it had been before, unfinished drawing and all.

Ultimately, Prosecutor Gavin made his graceful exit out of the room...which involved falling flat on his face as his legs fell asleep after sitting so long. Vera could have cracked her own spine, jerking her body forward to look over the bed.

Somehow, the face plant didn't diminish the almost Heavenly glow coming in from the window practically engulfing this man. He picked himself from the floor in record time, if his pride got chipped in the process he just continued walking out the door like nothing happened.

But he did poke his head back through a crack in the door, long enough to tell Vera he was glad to have been able to spend time with her. Vera's voice completely faded away in surprise, so she just nodded. She felt dumb, but Prosecutor Gavin flashed another smile before leaving for real that time.

When he was gone, Vera curled up on her side with her mouth going haywire attempting to express the burst of warmth in her chest. What was that? Happiness? She hoped so, because anything else would require medical assistance.

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_**TBC**_

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Hey guys, it's the author again. Just wanted to come out of hiding from under my desk, be all annoying and ask if I completely wrecked the characters here. You'll have to forgive me if I have my own head canons about the characters, though.

Hope you like the story so far, or at least tolerate it. Even if you don't, I'm glad my work actually made a person develop an opinion. As an author, that's all I can hope for. Trust me when I say that it's always good to feel something rather than nothing; feeling nothing is a serious problem.


	2. Chapter 2

I wound up writing 2 versions: this and another where Apollo and Trucy burst in. But the latter didn't see the light of day because Apollo's my boy, but Trucy gets grating to write for several paragraphs.

I used to be able to tolerate Trucy, but I guess I'm losing my patience at the ancient old age of 21. I'm just waiting for the day I wake up with head of grey hair and the urge to yell at children for not being born in 1980 even though I wasn't either. *Stares into the abyss*

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_**Meaning In Your Smile**_

_**Chapter 2**_

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"_If you want us to stay for a while, we don't mind." Apollo said when they arrived at the door._

_Meanwhile Trucy choked out...**some kind **of pitiful noise before rushing toward Vera and making the goodbye awkward, but he grabbed her cape and reeled her back in. They weren't sending her to war, but one driving by might think otherwise._

"_I don't want to keep you away from work." Vera replied composed, despite the arm she carried her sketchbook under twitching as she hadn't yet kicked the habit of drawing her answers. She tried to smile at them one last time, assuming her lip quirking method was passable. "There are a lot of chores that haven't been done, so I should-"_

"_Don't you dare lift a finger!" Trucy cried, breaking free and clasping a baffled Vera's hands. "Polly is a good little maid-" And whatever other backward compliments she had for Apollo were going to remain a mystery, because the exasperated man himself wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her away flailing and complaining he needed to accept his practical uses._

When Vera stepped back into her home, the same walls that were her whole world so many years, the attempt at a smile on her face was slipping. She passed by the refrigerator, caught her reflection and choked a little. She didn't know if it was to keep herself from crying, or curbing the temptation to shout.

Someone might step into their childhood home after being away for a little while, rush to their parents like they were kids again and check up on them. She didn't have anyone to talk to. And though past conversations with her father were never in depth or expressed too much affection on her part, having him around was better than being alone. Now she had to live with the knowledge her father died, probably not knowing she cared about him.

"_We could swing by the agency." Trucy offered, clinging to her arm as they left the hospital. "Daddy can order some Chinese food, and the three of us can have a little glad-you're-still-here party! Maybe we'll even give some leftovers to Polly afterward, if we feel like it..."_

Vera would have preferred to be at the agency at that point, surrounded by people who were willing to be compassionate. She definitely needed to talk to Phoenix at some point too – she had at least four different apologies in her mind ready to spill over, and she hoped at least one sounded coherent. But then she thought about Trucy… Trucy's bond with Phoenix to be more accurate. She wasn't sure if she could take watching them, knowing her own relationship with her blood-related father must have looked like an adoption scenario.

Busy. She needed to keep herself busy so she didn't cry again. She'd done more than enough of that in the hospital and she didn't need more, no thank you.

A quick search through the refrigerator revealed some of the food expired that same day, and she wasn't brave enough to sample certain items. Particularly the milk. She didn't know how she was going to get more groceries, fight her nervousness around people just to go to stock up. She was grateful the hospital gave her balanced meals, at least. That would just have to last for a couple of days and the rest of the plan was overloaded with question marks.

There were dirty dishes still piled in the sink, dust collecting on the furniture and the most **annoying **corners to try and squeeze into and she was almost certain that the unpleasant odor through most of the rooms was coming from the garbage container in the kitchen that should have been hard to miss the first time. And all of this was going to take a while, but she didn't mind. She held her breath and added the expired food to the garbage first and picked up momentum from there.

In the end, Vera cleaned like her life depended on it. If she were being honest with herself, she would say out loud she didn't care about rushing into it on her first day back home. While she did survive the poison, she was close to dying when she was taken to the hospital. The doctors were uncertain if there would be any long-term effects, and instructed her to take it easy. But instead she was scrubbing dishes with all the strength she had, dusting and putting away painting supplies and old papers with all the colors of the rainbow splattered on them. There was two clocks in the house, but she didn't look at either the whole time.

Vera didn't think her cleaning episode would come to an end, until an agonizingly high-pitched ring attacked her eardrums. In the mist of rotating the broom to its proper form, she dropped it and fell to her knees as well. The noise only lasted thirty seconds, she tried to count. But when it ended, it started up again and she had to slam her palms to her ears. Was she in hell? Was that the noise that played when someone's wings got clipped? She crawled through the living toward a box of tissues on the coffee table and hurriedly pressed one into her ear, just checking for blood.

When the noise finally stopped and seemed like it wasn't going to happen again, Vera was shakily examining the tissue for any sign of blood, tears leaking out of her eyes. There was no blood, thankfully, which meant her eardrums should be working. They must have been, because once she as released from that hell she picked up banging sounds that were much less painful.

Then it hit her. She and her father never received them before, but… There was a visitor. She scrambled up to her feet at that point, practically ripping a fresh tissue out of the box to remove the tears. What if several days had passed, and that was some variation of Apollo and Trucy? That thought snapped her out of her mini breakdown, and she sprinted fast as she could across the recently swept kitchen tile to the door.

* * *

When Vera opened the door, she properly noticed the time of day. The sun was seating, streaks of orange and pink overtaking the blue. She still had no idea how long she had been left alone cleaning. But more importantly: she didn't have anyone to clear up this information. Really, there was no one there. She could feel the disappointment well, wondering if that was just a prank by some bored children. She looked left and right at the bustling LA streets, but there was no one coming to or from her house.

She stepped out to get a better view, and that's when she stumbled and almost fell over the railing. It wasn't a long drop, but still concerning. Vera didn't know how she managed to pull her body back in time, only her arms going forward so she could grab the railing and steady herself. She was frozen in an awkward position, hands going pale trying to keep herself standing and bending over. But in that position, she saw the vase she'd accidentally lost her balance from kicking.

Vera's heart raced worryingly and brought a burning sensation over her face again when she realized just what was in the burgundy vase. White roses. Her mind instantly went to Prosecutor Gavin, as most girls' probably did, but he was the only person she'd told her flower preference to. Of course it was him.

Vera lowered herself to her knees and examined the flowers closer. For all the stress she had been under, just seeing that and remembering the effects of Prosecutor Gavin when she felt alone suddenly she wasn't scared or sad. She couldn't pinpoint the emotion that spread over her like a terrible wildfire, because it wasn't even a bad feeling.

The roses were in full bloom, such a pure white they popped out against the colorful city. Vera thought she could paint a scene like that; the background of the setting sun with some shades of blurry passing cars while a giant vase of flowers took the center impossible to miss at first viewing. Her mind jumped ship from cleaning right into that topic as she hovered her nose over one of the roses. What colors would she choose, what angle would best suit the focus of the painting and should she include anything else or just make the roses the main-

Just as Vera was getting fully absorbed in thoughts of that new painting, a new sound hit her ears. It wasn't loud and obnoxious like earlier – this was genuine music, a real song. She picked up the vase and approached the railing again to look down just as she heard a voice curse and the music instantly shut up. She peeked over the edge, and who else was there but… Prosecutor Gavin.

Indeed, Prosecutor Gavin was enchanting as always with all the remaining sunlight pointing to him. The only problem was that he looked much more flustered than he did at any time the last she'd seen him, on his hands and knees in the dirt under the stairs and platform. He held his cellphone to his ear, spitting out replies rapid fire to whoever was on the other line in an attempt to get them to end the conversation. He didn't notice he'd been spotted though, well, not that Vera made any noise...especially after seeing him look so distressed over this obviously unexpected call.

"Yes! Yes I received the flowers and they're… But I did pay for them… I don't know where your sales record would be; I've never worked at a flower shop before… I don't know what to do during a panic attack; I've never had one, but if I did I'd call for paramedics..."

Vera chewed on her lip thoughtfully, wondering if she should pretend she didn't see him. If she went back inside, she had the risk of those thoughts about being alone to override the much more pleasant ones of the painting. She also needed to find a suitable place for the flowers, somewhere to brighten whatever room she decided on.

Finally, Prosecutor Gavin looked around wildly as if paranoid he was about to be seen. And so Vera lost her chance to go back in the house, because his eyes found hers. While Vera cringed, Prosecutor Gavin slammed his phone shut and leaped to his feet looking with a particular in-the-headlights look about him.

No one said anything for several moments, during which Vera's toes twitched madly in preparation to flee inside and not have to make him more flustered. He wasn't the one who was supposed to look like that – he was supposedly perfect, as Trucy lovingly described.

Wherever Prosecutor Gavin's voice disappeared to, he found it eventually. "You didn't answer the doorbell, so I thought… Herr Forehead didn't say **when **you were going back home and..." Actually, words are overrated and should be discontinued immediately. He resorted to shifting his weight a little, kind of hinting he might run away but he remained.

And it felt like it took forever, but it was most likely only seconds before Vera flashed the tiniest smile one possibly could. Not wanting to scare him with too much teeth like some kind of monster, of course. So it hadn't been days since she returned? The flowers would have probably been in desperate need of water by then. And...her father actually had a doorbell installed. Who knew?

"You remembered what I said." Was a completely obvious fact, but it was all Vera could get out. And it must have been enough for Prosecutor Gavin, because he brushed the dirt off his jacket and began to approach the stairs like a normal person.

"After all you've been through, I just thought you could use a reminder there are good things in the world." He explained, now standing at the bottom of the steps as if he needed clearance to ascend. "Personally, I know next to nothing about flowers. Or gardening. Perhaps I'm just uncultured trash. Still, I've had enough dressing rooms filled with flowers to realize such a simple thing can brighten up a room."

They shared a proper look at each other face to face, despite being different heights at that point. But whatever secrets they were attempting to telegraph through intense eye contact would have to wait – a new, disturbing noise like the roar of a dragon stirred up.

Vera's face absolutely flooded with red, and she brought the roses closer hoping to hide some of it. She felt like running back inside and not coming out until life dragged Prosecutor Gavin wherever, but what would that accomplish? He was standing right there; he already heard it and he… Wasn't going to tease her?

Prosecutor Gavin actually looked a bit confused, before understanding shone in his eyes and offered to have some food delivered to her house. The choices would be limited, but between pizza and Chinese take out she could probably find something to her taste.

In the end, Vera asked to try some pizza. When she told Prosecutor Gavin all she'd ever had were frozen ones, he looked like he might finally learn what a panic attack was. He was quick to recommend a small, obscure pizza place that was the source of many weekend meals for him. With Vera's okay, he called in the order with a strange amount of passion she was at least ninety percent sure he wasn't exaggerating.

* * *

There were probably a lot of teenage girls who would want to flay her alive for having the **audacity** to invite Prosecutor Gavin into her home, and keep her company so her mind didn't stray to sad topics. He would have left; he offered to leave her be once the pizza arrived at the door in record time. But when his stomach began to make some horrific roaring as well, Vera countered with an offer for him to stay and eat. He did pay for it, after all. It was either the embarrassment or hunger talking, but whatever the case he accepted.

"_Father would have denied him entry on sight._" Vera thought to herself, again hiding her face with the roses as she placed the vase right in the center of the table. She probably spent too many seconds leaning over in them, peeking up at Prosecutor Gavin while he arranged their plates. "_But he's not a stranger __anymore… I know some things about him. He just needs to know more about me. What's there to say that can't be shown in my drawings or paintings?_"

Vera eventually gave up trying to make sense of this whole thing. For the first time in her life she was going to eat alone with a non-family member… A man who has probably done so much more than share a meal with women before. Of course she was nervous, but her hunger won in the end. So she sank into her chair while Prosecutor Gavin admitted it wasn't every day he shared a meal with a woman and it wasn't ro- Did she say all of her thoughts out loud, or did he read them? With overwhelming nervousness, Vera just stayed silent and hoped there was a middle option where he was simply making a casual observation.

She really must have been starving after all, because once she took the smallest bite of the pepperoni and cheese pizza she didn't want to stop. It was still hot, but not unpleasantly so. The cheese was thick and soft, the pepperoni spicy but not enough to give her heartburn yet. It was, and this might not even be the appropriate word for it, **amazing**. Perhaps it was for the best they didn't have anything to talk about, because she wanted to spend as long as she could giving her stomach what it had been growling for.

Sometimes, Vera swore when she looked opposite her seat to Prosecutor Gavin he was smiling at her in between eating. But just as quick as their eyes met, he acted like he was looking at the clock behind her head. Did he realize that didn't make sense? Because she could tell: he didn't have anywhere to be for now. Why else would he have stayed so long to make sure after the awkward little flower delivery? Nothing was keeping him at her house, well, nothing before the pizza at least.

There was a lot of pizza missing from the box by the time Vera and Prosecutor Gavin were finished, though it felt like it hadn't taken that long. They must have both been hungrier than they could comprehend. It was then Vera wanted to say something, anything. Thank him for the pizza, promise to give him money back no matter how long it took for her to paint something and manage to sell it. It would take a long time, but hopefully he could wait. That kind of thing. It felt like the appropriate thing to do.

Prosecutor Gavin didn't seem too concerned with money, no, he sighed contently and kept giving the remains a fond look before coming back to reality and gracefully standing. And yes, this time he looked as perfect as his reputation insisted. When he took their used plates, he looked like he might roll up his sleeves and wash them if she didn't intervene. Honestly, Vera was glad there would be more cleaning to do. Keep herself busy.

Even though there were only two plates to wash, Vera swooped in and grabbed them like they were expensive and decorative. So she could accidentally slam them in the sink and blast them with ice water it seemed. Prosecutor Gavin was at a loss over what to do with himself again, Vera knew he was still standing there wanting to contribute something. And that was nice of him, but he'd already given flowers and some food… He was standing close enough for her lungs to only be taking in his cologne, probably not healthy for the lungs but she didn't mind. She just didn't know where to go from there. What was the natural progression from inviting someone in and then eating with them?

Before Vera was able to process reality, Prosecutor Gavin approached folding his arms on the counter and standing with a very limited distance between their sides of the kitchen. She imagined he didn't notice all the small details like that, and she wished she didn't. There wasn't enough sunlight outside to engulf him this time, but each individual sparkle in his eyes provided enough light for half his face at least.

...What had she been doing before he approached?

"When I first moved out of my parents' house, I was around your age more or less." Okay, that was a topic. Prosecutor Gavin let his gaze flicker around in thought, absently running fingers through his hair. "Honestly, I wasn't mentally mature enough for any form of responsibility. I shouldn't have been on my own, but if my parents had my support then that seemed like all I needed. They had good jobs; they could give me money in a jam." He performed a double take to Vera as if doubtful she was listening, and when he realized she was he seemed comfortable with going on.

"Although I don't know what it's like to lose a parent, I understand how living alone isn't always the dream. You know that Trucy wants to be close to you, right? And Phoenix Wright himself is a good man – you can ramble on, but it still feels like he's listening to every word. Even Herr Forehead would pitch in if you asked… He could hold the stepladder while you change a light bulb, whatever makes him feel included."

Vera's manic scrubbing of the plates slowed down, eventually. She looked away from him, staring into space rather than the stubborn bit of melted cheese that sponge just wasn't removing. There was another feeling of warmth in her chest, when images of the Wright Agency gang flashed into her mind. Prosecutor Gavin's mini speech didn't have to convince anything; she knew they would help her in whatever way they could even if a light bulb blew out and the ceiling light was too high. He was simply saying what her mind kept telling her, her tongue just refused to cooperate and let the words be stated. Let the declaration finally happen.

But another thought came to Vera's mind, one she was unsure if it needed to be said aloud. Just in case, she kept her eyes on the plates and her fingers lost in the pool of chilled water and foamy soap.

"Prosecutor Gavin..." Suddenly, it felt like she had a sore throat. Vera tried her best to clear it discreetly before moving on. "Do you still have friends like them?"

"No." Prosecutor Gavin said matter of fact, so much so that Vera felt bad for asking. And when she looked from the corner of her eye, there was the sadness from before making an appearance.

He cringed slightly when he saw her peek, though he quickly fixed his posture to be more relaxed and curve his lips back to a much more contained smile. "I said I had friends, but not all of them were like those three. Only one, Daryan, felt like someone I could trust and not force myself to be 'perfect' around. If I was really perfect, if I was as smart as I've been called I would have realized years ago I didn't know him like I thought."

"I think...Apollo, Trucy and Phoenix would be your friends too." Vera said before her mind said it was a bad idea.

Prosecutor Gavin shook his head. "Right now, I'll leave things as they are. Perhaps I could pull each aside in private and take some barriers away, but it's too soon to be serious. I haven't given them enough reason to believe me if I accidentally wander drunk to the agency door crying and revealing my innermost thoughts."

"What about me?" Vera asked quickly, get it out of the way while staring intensely into the sink. "I know I can't offer thrilling conversation, but I would let you come by again and...let you do all the talking to your heart's content."

"Well, I've had two therapists in my lifetime and they said the same thing." Prosecutor Gavin warned her, though he turned his head she still caught his playful smile. He must not have been joking.

Vera dried her slightly wrinkled fingers and approached him then. If he had been facing her, they would be about as eye to eye as they could with that annoying height distance. Her heart felt like it was going to burst again, but she held onto his sleeve again. She even let her fingers curl, hoping the material was thick enough his arm didn't register the extra touch.

"What if we did some more drawing, see where it goes from there?" Prosecutor Gavin suggested casually, turning to meet Vera's eyes again. She must have looked convinced, because his eyes lit up and chased the sadness elsewhere.

* * *

_**TBC**_


	3. Chapter 3

I've decided that I want the story to be in a format where both characters have their perspective as focus. Vera had 2 chapters for her perspective, Klavier will get 2 and so on.

* * *

_**Meaning In Your Smile**_

_**Chapter 3**_

* * *

The day Vera was released from the hospital and caught him trying to be stealthy with roses, Klavier didn't expect she would still want to spend more time with him. That had already been brought up in the hospital, and while the idea of seeing her again was pleasant… How many times did she catch herself seeing Kristoph instead? She seemed like the type to steer clear of conflict, so the thought she might keep that to herself made sense. But Klavier didn't think he would be offended. Twenty-four years of being compared to Kristoph? How could he not be used to it?

Fast forward to the present, and Klavier arrived at Vera's house on a weekend this time. There was no better time than a Saturday morning to learn how to paint, or help a shy person practice expressing herself. It was the moment he knocked on the door that he realized… Wow, he didn't have a plan.

The whole two minutes Klavier rambled on, trying to explain why he chose the weekend of all times to visit, Vera just looked up at him in the doorway with a neutral face and eyes bypassing the plane of existence they were all confined to. She could have interjected any time; it would have been best for everyone. But through the destruction of language, Klavier finally admitted he wanted to step into the world of art.

Vera allowed him into her home again, but this time they went to the art studio. Klavier didn't have anything to compare it to, but thought it looked like a professional setting should aspire to be with shelves on two sections of wall and supplies cleaned up and organized as much as they could be.

There was one canvas in the center of the others that had the beginnings of a painting on it. The colors were so distracting that he had to walk closer and admire it. The upper portion had dark shades of orange and light shades of pink mixing, kind of like a sunset. The lower had very faint splashes of blues, reds and silvers in front of a basic grey structure.

"It should have been complete by now." Vera said wistfully somewhere behind him. "Four days, and this is all I could do."

Klavier's gaze followed Vera for a moment as she approached and seated herself on the stool in front of the canvas. He could see what was either contemplation or discontentment from the side of her face.

"Does it always take less than a week for you to finish a painting?" Klavier couldn't help but ask.

Vera didn't turn to look at him, instead focused on the unfinished painting. "Yes, but only with...someone else's work..." She held her hands together and wrung them. "Maybe I'm out of practice."

"Then it sounds like making songs; it's easier to cover someone else, but when you have to make your own lyrics and see them written on paper..." Klavier trailed off, realizing halfway through his struggles with music might not be the easiest to relate to.

A look to Vera showed she was still wringing her hands with more frustration than nervousness. If she was becoming stressed, her face was too neutral to give it away. Klavier wondered if he arrived at a bad time; maybe he interrupted her attempt to overcome these problems with her new painting. He wanted to ask, but the words never left his mind.

Klavier walked to the shelves after that, hoping to find paper and a pen of some kind. Even though this area was set up for painting, he couldn't help thinking a non-abstract painter would have to sketch a rough image before wearing down a perfectly good brush. His mind flashed an image of something to draw, though it was related to music of course.

Ultimately, it wasn't difficult for Klavier to find the paper and pen he needed. There was another, more rickety stool sitting against the wall but he claimed the seat and his hand seemed to glide across the seemingly new-ish sketchbook page on its own to create the image before it faded.

When Klavier drew that first piano, he didn't know what he was doing. Everyone draws a meaningless image on a notebook once in a while out of boredom, and that was the extent of Klavier's creative attempts. That proper attempt at a drawing for Vera's sake looked crappy, he knew in his heart, but he couldn't say he expected otherwise. He didn't know what he was doing…

Believe it or not, Klavier **still **didn't know what he was doing as he pressed the pen to the paper with mild force at first and slowly relaxed his hand. It wasn't a rush, and it wasn't going to affect the rest of the world. It reached a point his heart rate was remarkably calm, and each clumsy stroke of the pen stopped making his inner perfectionist throw a tantrum. He wasn't making museum-worthy art, but he could vaguely identify the image on paper compared to the one in his mind. Vaguely.

Vera had been watching the whole time, finally making it known by rising from the stool and approaching him. Klavier watched her from the corner of his eye, mildly distracted by her shy steps yet very unsubtle leaning from the side to sneak a peak. It was unlikely she knew of his contentment toward attention, but Klavier was sure his face must have lit up a few watts like a fame addict.

The attention high allowed him to work much faster on the drawing, and it probably suffered because of that. Klavier leaned back after finishing the drawing and held it out to properly gauge what he created.

There were at least three rows of crooked, simplified houses of various size lined up in front of their roughly scribbled in yards. Their real purpose was to set a scene of the street Klavier grew up on, though instead of adding himself he stopped at stick figures with no defining features except one wearing glasses and the other having long hair in a feminine style. As realistic as the figures on public restroom signs, really.

Klavier stayed silent, trying to look neutral all the while not so secretly on edge for an opinion of his work. It was better than the piano, he thought, but that wasn't much of a contest. It was a little awkward having this pathetic work seen by a professional, but several moments passed and Vera never even chuckled at his failure.

"You had more feeling in this drawing." Vera stated like a simple fact, still leaning and looking over the drawing she had a spark of approval in her eyes.

"I loved this street for seventeen years." Klavier added a little more dreamily as he took in the drawing again. "People moved in and out over the course of those years, and I was lucky a lot of them were families with kids my age. I made friends, rivals and drove my own family. The good times didn't last, but would come back after a certain amount of bad."

Klavier caught Vera nodding at his words, less politely and much more in awe. She didn't have a lot of social interaction with anyone other than her father, so he felt like he **should **trail lightly on the subject of how many people he used to know but… When the memories were unearthed and all the feelings came back, he **couldn't**. He didn't have time to debate it, however.

"Is that your mother and brother?" Vera asked, pointing to the figures. Her voice was fine at first, turning emotional by the second word.

"Mother and Father." Klavier corrected her as fast as he could, though it hadn't been enough to keep her eyes from dimming no doubt being reminded of Kristoph.

Vera nodded as she received this new information, but her eyes were still clouded with some kind of emotion he couldn't identify. She turned her back and began to walk aimlessly from around the studio, occasionally stopping to graze her hand over a shelf or even the brushes left in front of her unfinished painting. This went on for minutes. Klavier wondered if her mind had been overwhelmed with nothing but Kristoph, and if his only option was to leave her alone.

While Klavier and despair collided with each other in the confines of his own brain, Vera returned to his side and gently took the sketchbook from him. He thought she was just going to put it away, concerned with an organized studio before letting her emotions come to the surface. What she did next, however, was balance the sketchbook in her arms and let the pen glide over the page like it had back in the hospital.

Learning the guitar required a lot of focus and memorization from Klavier's brain, and honestly it wasn't like he picked it up naturally in the beginning. But as the years went on, Klavier's memory sharpened to the point he didn't need to think of where he placed his fingers. He thanked all of that determined practice when he recognized the familiar movements Vera was making right then.

Klavier also recalled she was about to draw something elaborate in the hospital when they were interrupted.

Art really hadn't been one of Klavier's passions, you know… Painting, drawing to even sculpting. He understood why people would make one or maybe even all of those hobbies a lifestyle, but for him there was more satisfaction from taking in the finished product with his ears rather than eyes.

So he was like an outsider gawking through the window when Vera drew. She didn't seem very withdrawn then; she still didn't make too much expression, but her eyes brightened to an extent. She didn't send any signals she didn't want him to stare while she worked on her drawing, which did stir some curiosity in Klavier's mind.

Does her shyness always fade when she's doing something she likes? Does she like other things besides art, magic and white roses? Is it possible for eyes to light up like hers, or is she the only one? Yeah, his mind wasn't the most organized place at the moment with the questions bouncing off the inner walls. There were so many more than three, but he wasn't going to waste time counting.

"Are you close to your parents?" Vera asked quietly, almost hidden beneath the sound of the pen. "I mean you have mentioned them a few times…?"

* * *

"_So do Mother and Father have time to watch your...performance?" Kristoph asked with as much ambiguity as a teenager could muster._

"_They said they'd make time after all!" Klavier responded excitedly practically leaping onto Kristoph's desk and knocking over a few of his textbooks in the process._

_Kristoph gave his interrupted and scattered homework an exasperated look, before he collected himself and gave his brother a much more neutral one. Always in control of what he showed other people._

"_Klavier, you know it's a mandatory school show. I know you've been… **devoted **to the guitar lately, but the rest of your little music class are going to be there too."_

"_I know! I was worried I Mother and Father wouldn't get to see me like the others' parents, but-"_

"_Imagine what would happen if they said they would, but changed their minds without telling you."_

_Klavier hesitated for a moment, his energetic swinging his legs against the desk drawers paused. Seeing this change, a somewhat dark chuckle rumbled in Kristoph's throat._

"_Of course Mother and Father wouldn't do that, no, they always found time to attend every meaningless school event I had to take part in before you were even old enough to go to school. Not surprising… Not surprising at all..."_

"_Kristoph, are you okay?"_

_Kristoph's eyes may have been on Klavier, but they seemed to be looking at something else entirely as he tapped his pencil against his spared homework page. Klavier's ears, becoming sharper listening for any mistakes when he played a more demanding song, noticed these rapid taps for the sudden change in volume had a pattern. Chaotic? Kind of. But still a pattern._

"_Um, you seem… I'm just..." Klavier was off the desk before he could complete a thought, backing away slowly with the hope his route to the door was clear._

_Klavier wound up making a desperate sprint to the door, fingers even reaching out and curling around the doorway to steady himself when he stopped as he felt like he might cough up a lung. What kept Klavier standing there seconds later than he wanted was Kristoph seemingly talking to himself in a casual way as he gathered his fallen homework._

"_Of course they don't give a damn about the meeting with my teacher that day, no when the favorite son has some throwaway child concert you're supposed to care more about than better education opportunities for your first born. Not like being first born means much..."_

* * *

Klavier blinked a few times, coming back to reality. He didn't think he spaced out too long, because Vera was still drawing although she seemed to have moved from the top of the page to the bottom. Klavier hadn't thought about that one weird moment with Kristoph since he was… What, nine or ten? He couldn't even remember. Although he definitely remembered spending the night few nights until that event much less enthusiastic, and secretly crying before he fell asleep when he was left alone for guilty thoughts to consume his mind.

"It's okay if you don't want to answer." Vera assured him out of nowhere as the scribbling noise stopped. "We have different situations: you had both parents, and still do. I'll never know what having a mother feels like, and it's too late for me to start."

That was when Vera turned the sketchbook around and revealed her creation. Klavier was immediately stunned by how professional she made it despite the short time. It looked like it might be a person, although scaled rather small and standing rigid with her hands clasped in front of her. Nothing was filled in for color, but there were still details like the long braided hair and big emotionless eyes. Klavier was thrown off by the style of clothing – the dress she wore looked like it could have come out of the nineteen seventies or something. Not that he could accurately identify decades just by looking.

"Father once told me my mother looked a lot like this doll, minus the style of clothing." Vera explained as she pinned down Klavier's eyes. She leaned in closer, not enough to bump shoulders but she guided his gaze along the page with a finger. "The doll has brown eyes and a very dull shade of pink hair in real life, and I was never brave enough to ask Father if those colors matched up with hers… But I like to think they do."

Klavier was so caught up in at least three things: the very well-made drawing, the backstory and oddly enough Vera being very close and not being nervous about it despite obvious wariness around him before. But he didn't mind being close to her if she didn't mind his **maybe **excessive cologne.

"Actually, the doll fell from a high shelf four years ago." Vera said, interrupting the somewhat peaceful moment of reflection.

Klavier couldn't help but flinch not only at the thought of picking up pieces of a broken doll, but also how upsetting that might be considering who it looked like. He was about to interject with a lame attempt at expressing sympathy, as if he had any idea what she may have thought at the scene… But Vera turned to look right at him and she just shook her head.

"The doll is still mostly intact, but moved to a covered case now." Vera added, sighing regretfully more than anything. "She lost half her face, although the remaining still has large cracks. That's the only connection I have to Mother, so… I couldn't just throw it away."

Klavier didn't know what to say. He felt like he needed to say the perfect thing to cheer her up, but nothing came to mind. They didn't know each other well enough for him to pat her on the back, or take her hand and tell her he would listen if she needed to get more off her chest. What could he do?

"Um, I could leave if you don't-"

"I don't mind if you stay a little longer, Prosecutor Gavin."

Vera's eyes seemed to pop open, almost like she hadn't been fully thinking when she said that. She stepped back a little, eyes nervously flickering left and right as she buried her nose somewhere in the middle of the sketchbook. She really hadn't said anything offensive, so Klavier didn't know what that reaction was for.

Klavier did stay a little longer. It turned out that straying from a schedule and just drawing at one's leisure wasn't a bad way to pass the time. Although he and Vera both tried not to speak of family issues when conversation arose. It wasn't the right time. But maybe someday…

* * *

_**TBC**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Meaning In Your Smile**_

_**Chapter 4**_

* * *

If he didn't have a stubborn case lasting several days, Klavier used to spend his Sunday partying. Daryan was always the first to speak the idea, and Klavier was exhausted enough from work to agree. Of course, Daryan's idea of a party was to invite as many people as possible to Klavier's house with the most expensive booze and exotic snacks because money was just paper to him. Sometimes Klavier swore that couple who used to live next door to him – now in their sixties – showed up from time to time to take shots and lead the sluggish younger generation to the dance floor when a fast-paced song came on. But then again, he was on the tipsy side so it was likely he imagined it.

Those Sundays had been fun, but Daryan's arrest marked the end. Now Klavier's Sundays consisted of sleeping in until one in the afternoon and spending the rest of the day alone catching up on work or surfing the internet. If he ever saw an advertisement for a horror film with a silly plot, sometimes he even dragged himself out of the house to watch it even if it would have been more fun to mock with a companion.

But Klavier's social circle wasn't the same anymore. At twenty-four, he felt more like a ninety year old who either out-lived all his friends and family or was simply abandoned by them. This Sunday, he actually crawled out of bed early and fixed himself up for a thrilling day out...so he could collapse on the couch and rest his chin on the arm rest lazily, staring at his phone's contact list long enough to go blind.

_**Father**_

_**Mother**_

_**Daryan**_

_**Ema Skye**_

_**Apollo Justice**_

He's gone through the trouble of removing Kristoph's contact, but Daryan was also unable to have a cellphone in prison. Klavier didn't know how drunk he was when he was removing contacts, but it must have been something strong in his system for him to delete his other bandmates' numbers.

Now he only had two choices for people to spend the day with: Ema and Apollo. He flipped a coin.

"Good afternoon, Herr Forehead." Klavier greeted with the most honey-lathered tone he could muster.

There was a downright tragic groan on the other line, which Klavier interpreted as a greeting reserved specially for him. Not a very nice suggestion, though.

"Why is it that the first time you call, it's on my day off?"

Klavier wasn't prepared for that to be Apollo's first question. An uncomfortable warmth spread to his ears as he briefly contemplated a battle strategy. Somehow, courtroom arguments were more easier with this guy than casual interaction. But he couldn't tell him that.

But fate brought an intervention in what sounded like Trucy letting out a fangirl shriek in the background before erupting with something like: "I'd know what brings out that mournful tone from you anywhere! Klavier Gavin! Let me say hi! Give me the phone!"

"Are you incapable of behaving like a human?!"

"I just wanna have his speaking voice close to my ear!"

"That's sickening!"

Klavier reached for the bag of potato chips he left on the counter and tried to munch on them as quiet as possible while a brief argument broke out. Everyone was doomed to lose. After a few moments, the phone picked up a dull thud and the voices sounded far away.

Just when Klavier pulled the phone from his ear and hovered his finger to end the call, a small and timid female voice asked if he was there. It may have also caused his heart to leap in his throat from shock, or at least it felt like that.

"Apollo and Trucy took me to a book store to take a break from stressing over my new painting." Vera awkwardly said, her voice really lowering as she went on. "I overheard them fighting just now and... I thought... Would you like to join us?"

Y-E-S. Yes. Klavier could feel his mouth stretch into the most painful smile at the theoretical call to adventure, but he tried not to reply too fast and eager... Not only for the sake of phone etiquette, but also because Vera might have a heart attack.

Klavier managed to calm down and reply like a normal person, which was indeed a yes to that invitation. Vera's whole vibe over the phone seemed to change positively when she told him the directions, and even said she and Trucy would be expecting him. Apollo was an entirely different story. Vera didn't have to mention herself along with Trucy, but it gave Klavier some hope that she was trying her best not to associate him with Kristoph anymore.

* * *

Klavier wasn't much of a reader, although back in school he was actually invested in a lot of the classic books he was forced to read and report on. But he hadn't read them since, and honestly he didn't have the time for it even on days off. None of that stopped him from having a spark of curiosity over the atmosphere of a book store – the first thought that came into his mind was stereotypical hipster. Nothing was confirmed when he arrived at the store itself, which was somewhat small but non-threatening on the outside.

Vera didn't mention where to meet upon arrival, so Klavier pulled open the door and simply stepped inside. He quickly found himself taking his turn for being awkward, looking more like a loiterer near the tiny display of trending books. But while he was there, he decided to browse.

There were biographies of real people, young adult make out marathons and at least one mystery novel that must have had supernatural elements. Where would Klavier even start? None of these interested him, and now that he thought of it... He could name his favorite music genre much faster. Then again, it was a no brain situation: rock. What kind of rock? We'll get back to you on that.

Only minute or so passed before Klavier decided to go farther into the store. There weren't many places to look for the three, but maybe he wouldn't even have to – he heard some frustrated grunts, followed by the owner of them grumbling. He followed the sound until he was in the fantasy section, finding it empty except for the blue-haired woman dressed mostly in purple standing on the very tip of her toes yet being unable to grab something off the highest shelf.

"Vera?"

She whipped her head toward him at the sound of her name, expression softening at sight of someone familiar. But she still had a mission, so she uttered a quiet request for him to wait before returning to pushing the limits of human toes and arm muscles with each unsuccessful lunge for the book.

Klavier rested his hands on his hips and curiously looked up at the spine of the book. It said something about geography and fairy wings; he couldn't get the best look with the flash of Vera's fingers in front of it. She was not going to be able to get that book on her own, and neither would her companions who seemed to have gone temporarily MIA.

Klavier was just trying to help when he suddenly cast his hand up to the book as well, but that led to a heart-stopping moment for him and Vera at once when her timing of throwing her hand as well resulted in her grabbing his by the knuckles. Neither of them had explosives attached to their hands or anything, so there was no reason for the shared suspense but...

Klavier grasped the book despite the extra feeling of Vera's palm over his knuckles. He tried not to yank the book from the shelf with excess force or anything, but he was a bit speedier than needed considering Vera hadn't moved. Well, except for the frantic grab for the book when he turned and held it out for her which she accepted with her head low and her hand moving from his to clutch what she'd been after all this time to her chest like precious treasure.

"I-I-I'm sorry, Prosecutor Gavin." Was Vera's most coherent sentence after all of that.

Klavier gave her a concerned look, but it was doubtful she saw under the curtain of hair falling in front of her eyes.

"It wasn't any trouble." Klavier tried to assure her. "You wanted the book, now you have it. If there was any stray dust kicked up from behind the book when it moved, that might make people in the section behind us sneeze but otherwise..."

"No, I'm worried about your- Your hand after I touched it." Vera sounded like she was close to a nervous breakdown, and he still couldn't see her face.

Klavier held out his hands in front of him, glancing particularly close on his left knuckle. Whatever Vera saw, he didn't. He wound up dropped them to his sides and his feet backing up to the shelf when Vera suddenly lifted her head and he saw tears building in the corners of her eyes.

"Test results claim I no longer have poison inside me, but do you remember how it happened in the first place? My nails. My hands. It just came back to me: the fear in the back of my mind it's stuck on the skin under my nails, and if I touch someone's skin it could pass to them..."

Klavier was taken aback. Again, he didn't know what to say to that. He wanted to comfort her, even though he also wondered how she could possibly think that touching someone's skin would have dangerous results. He couldn't stand to look at her tears, even though she was managing to hold them back with a hell of a lot more strength than he had. When he wasn't sure where to look, his eyes fell on the back of the book facing him and some of its plot summary.

_**...Stumbles into a secret grove inhabited by the struggling remains of the fairy population, and its local outcast with her touch so deadly her unpredictable magic casts are considered the reason for the humans' increasing attacks.**_

* * *

"Distracting myself doesn't seem to work all the time." Vera said with the occasional pause to sniff. "But it's easier when I'm with others. And you came all the way out here to try and stop being alone..."

Vera stopped when Klavier offered her the small collection of napkins he took from the coffee place right across the street. She accepted the napkins gratefully when it looked like the tears were finally starting to leak. Klavier pondered if he should mention he saw into Trucy standing in the very long line to get some coffee, but couldn't see Trucy as the type to leave without at least explaining where she was going. No hot beverage was worth Vera being upset.

"Do I come off as obviously lonely?" Klavier asked as he joined her on the cushioned bench. He could feel the sting of heat in his face. He asked it willingly, but it definitely sounded worse out loud.

"You said you didn't have many friends." Vera pointed out, looking to the floor and shyly fiddling with the napkins. "It's your eyes, Prosecutor Gavin."

Klavier couldn't help but snap his eyes back to hers. He must have looked confused, because she nodded affirmatively.

"You, Apollo and Trucy are all so similar: your eyes are hiding things. Sadness, mostly." Vera explained as if that was a simple fact. Klavier didn't argue, though she kept fidgeting nervously like she expected backlash.

"How are you better at reading people than my two therapists?" Klavier asked with just a hint of affectionate teasing, just enough to distract from the warmth overcoming him.

"B-Because I'm not used to other people, so I pay way too much attention?" Vera replied hastily, dropping her gaze to her shoes. She was definitely a little more flushed than before. "What I mean is... Painting and drawing, I can do. Reading people..."

Klavier didn't mean to watch her while she took some breaths and tried to compose herself, but the gears in his brain were finally greased enough for him to notice her hand resting at her side. Was that the hand she panicked about earlier? It happened so fast, he wasn't able to make a note of that.

Vera lifted her gaze before Klavier could look elsewhere. He was startled enough to freeze, and that seemed to be enough time for her to glance back and forth between him and her hand. All the moment needed was a cartoon sound effect of electricity, make a light bulb shine.

"Avoiding the problem isn't going to work." Vera muttered, slowly turning her body to Klavier so she could have his full attention. "Prosecutor Gavin, tell me I've lost my mind."

"What-"

"Yes, I've lost my mind." Vera sighed, just a bit of self-loathing in her tone. "I came all this way so I could try and have a normal outing, but I'm getting in my own way. I don't want to be sad all the time, and I certainly don't want to feel like I'm killing people just by touching them. I want to let whatever happens, you know, happen." And she punctuated all of that with offering her palms.

Klavier knew what he had to do. It was just that... He felt like in another place and time, some other universe opposite this, holding hands with another person caused them to engage in a series of increasingly weird antics as they developed a romantic relationship. It could happen.

It wasn't awkward, not immediately. Klavier tried not to hold Vera's hands like they were lovers, but their fingers curled and pressed to each other as if attempting to transfer poison before he could stop it.

Fellow customers in the store just continued to walk past, either with their nose buried in a book or talking to a buddy they brought along.

If no one was staring, then why did Klavier feel like a spotlight was positioned juuuust close enough to leave concerning burns? As if he'd never held a woman's hands before, geez, he'd held **many **hands in his time and would be lying through his teeth if he said otherwise.

"Should I even ask?" A voice asked nearby with the kind of exasperation only Apollo could pull off.

Klavier and Vera shared some startled gasps, and separated like as if their combined touch was genuinely corroding skin. While Vera clutched her hands like they were weapons of mass destruction, a faint blush dusted her cheeks, there was no regretful expression like Klavier feared.

It had to look like the most confusing scene from where Apollo was standing, however. Not just because he caught them holding hands, but rather due to Vera smiling despite her embarrassment. Klavier couldn't think of anything to do but return it, signal he wasn't worried about his doctor finding traces of poison on his fingers at his next appointment. And when Vera nodded, he was convinced he'd done the right thing at long last.

Now... As for strategies for dealing with Apollo...

"I invited Prosecutor Gavin to join us, got crazy and realized his hands are comforting." Vera said in the most fair-weather tone, looking Apollo right in the eye.

Apollo's grasp on the two books in his hand loosened, mostly because one was taken off to bury half his face into. His expression was pure confusion, mixed with the realization of who he was forced to put up with even on a day off.

"But please get your mind out of the gutter, Herr Forehead." Klavier helpfully added. "You, of all people, should know that there's nothing scandalous about holding hands in public. I'm sure you have a lot of history-"

"I wasn't thinking anything like that!" Apollo exploded with the same denial of the guilty party, But he recovered quickly from that with Vera being part of the scene, looking much softer as his eyes fell to her again. "Did you at least find the book I was talking about?"

Vera nodded and flashed the cover of the book. "Prosecutor Gavin helped me grab it."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Are you being sarcastic?"

Klavier looked between the book with its very colorful, abstract artwork behind what was either fairies of human height or fairies of the usual smaller size but zoomed in on. Even with what sounded like some dark subject matter, he had a difficult time making the connection... And Apollo must have noticed, because when they accidentally made eye contact his hair seemed to wilt.

"If I had to make a choice, it's sci-fi over action any day." Apollo said before Klavier could even ask, his tone absolutely dripping with self-consciousness. "Still, I've read that book before and it helped me with a personal struggle. So don't judge. If you do, I'm just going to follow you around and loudly mock whatever book you pick up – and I do mean **loudly**."

"No, no I won't judge." Klavier said less soothingly, more nervously as he raised his hands like there was about to be a gun shoved between his eyes.

In the end, Apollo could do nothing but accept the fact Klavier was going to join this outing. No amount of him dreaming up reasons why a four-person group was too much of a crowd managed to stop Klavier. Vera even added some input; she said with consistent sincerity having him around would be good for everyone. She didn't elaborate on that, but Klavier had a feeling she was referring to when he told her he didn't have friends. Coming from this harmless, sweet person Klavier didn't dare think she was taking pity on him. Because he hadn't taken pity on her, though he had every opportunity to.

When Trucy returned with three cups of coffee, Apollo became more scandalized from the fact she was bringing in outside drinks when she wasn't supposed to rather than possibly everyone mocking him for something trivial. And with Trucy having a fangirl episode over Klavier joining the group, Apollo's differing opinion was officially ignored. He couldn't possibly pretend he didn't know what it was like to be starstruck.

All in all, Klavier couldn't help but consider this an improvement for Sunday. He wished Vera didn't have to have emotional relapses, and seeing her cry was like a blade to the chest. But her mood seemed much better with time, either because his hands had some kind of magical powers or more realistically: she was surrounded by people who cared about her and didn't have any reasons to fake it.

As for Vera's smile whenever the two them made eye contact, well, Klavier considered that his biggest reason for never faking a want to see her again. She didn't smile all the time, something Klavier was relieved about. He was used to being around women who thought they weren't pleasant to be around if they didn't smile constantly, when in fact they'd always looked their best from an uncontrollable real smile. And that real smile was what attracted him the most.

Not that attraction was involved in the same sentence with Vera-

He... He needed distraction. Perhaps this outing was his chance to get some honest to God educational material, and absorb that before anything else.

* * *

_**TBC**_


End file.
